Stabenow, Dana - Liam Campbell 03 - Nothing Gold Can Stay

by Nothing Gold Can Stay(lit)

  Still, Silas had lost his wife two years before and was now the sole support of seven children, all under twelve years of age. One thousand, seven hundred fifty suspended, no points, and forty-five hours of community service. Bill had already talked to the high school principal. Silas would serve out his sentence in the computer lab there, proctoring the fall semesters students during the day and at night receiving some tutoring in the finer arts of data entry. Mayor Jim Earl was chivvying the town council into hiring another clerk for City Hall, and Bill was pretty sure he would succeed.

  She put aside the stack of fishing violations with relief and made herself a cup of coffee. By the time she came back out on the porch, Moses had returned with the two kids and a boatload of fish, and they were unloading down at the dock. She stood watching for a few moments, sipping at her mug. Tim liked cleaning fish and he was good at it, the tip of the knife inserted in the anus, the quick slit up the belly, the efficient scooping out of guts. Amelia was equally efficient, if a little slower. Lack of practice, probably. She hadnt been out to her familys fish camp this summer. Her husband wanted her home. Probably to use as a punching bag.

  Bill sighed and sat back down, setting the mug on the railing and picking up a single legal file sitting separate from the others.

  It was the record of a presumptive death hearing, the results of which the parents of the deceased were challenging. A young man, one of a youth group affiliated with a Presbyterian church out of Akron, Ohio, who had come to Alaska for a lesson in wilderness experience, had gone hiking with three friends on a glacier in the Wood River Mountains. The young man had gone for water and disappeared, and after four days Liam Campbell had called off the search and requested a hearing on the presumptive death of the young man.

  At the hearing, he had displayed photographs of the area, photographs of the pot lying on its side next to a sluggish stream of meltoff, a map with distances penciled in showing a narrow, easily overlooked and seemingly bottomless crevasse a few feet away from which Liam reported the sound of a lot of water running hard, and SARs report of lowering a fiber-optic cable down the crevasse and finding no body. The troopers best guess was that the boy had gone for water, slipped and fallen into the crevasse, and immediately been caught up in the subglacial river. The location of the boys disappearance was near the mouth of the glacier, and the force of the subsurface meltoff swift and strong, but given the slow rate at which glaciers melted, it would be a long time before the body could be recovered, if ever. With luck the glacier would calve quickly and in ten or fifteen years one of the slabs that fell from its face would yield up the body of the lost boy.

  The parents had flown up from Akron, and they fought Bills finding of death by misadventure every step of the way. They reported quarrels between the hikers, a grudge held against their son by another of the hikers, whose girlfriend their son had taken, and even floated the idea that the instructor had harbored feelings of animosity and possibly homicide toward the boy because of some disagreement over grades back in McKinley High School.

  Bill understood; it was difficult to accept the fact that your golden boy had tripped over his own feet and fallen headfirst into a glacier, never to be seen again. There was no sense in that kind of death. Better foul play, a murder, an event that would give them someone to blame, to punish.

  Presumptive death hearings were Bills least favorite duty. When a fisher was lost at sea, when a climber died on Denali, when a plane was lost in the Bush, and when the bodies of the fishers and the climbers and the fliers were unrecoverable, a presumptive death hearing was held. Most of the time the procedure gave the families some closure, the insurance companies the go-ahead to pay off policies and the lawyers permission to file for probate.

  Sometimes, though, the families could not or would not accept the inevitable.

  Like Lyle Montgomery. The first of the month, every month, he called, looking for his daughter. He didnt weep anymore during his phone calls. Bill couldnt decide if it was worse now than when he had. You wanted to do your best for the families and especially the parents. You wanted to give them a way to put their missing children to rest and a chance to get on with their lives. Some accepted your help. Some did not.

  Theyd never found Ruby Nunapitchuk, either, lost on a hunting trip eight years before. Opal and Leonard had handled their loss better than Lyle Montgomery had his, though. Probably helped that they lived in the Bush, and knew the risks inherent in a Bush lifestyle. Probably also helped that theyd had three other children, and grandchildren shortly thereafter.

  A hand grabbed her hair and pulled her out of her melancholy reverie. She saw daylight for approximately one second before it was blotted out by Moses grin. He kissed her, completely and thoroughly, and as always she felt the world go a little fuzzy around the edges, as if everything else went out of focus when he stepped into the frame.

  He pulled back, inspected her and seemed satisfied. “You looked sad.

  “Do I now?

  “No, he said smugly, and she had to laugh.

  He took the file from her hand and tossed it behind him without noticing where it fell. “You can either work on your trip to New Orleans, or you can help us get the fish into brine. Your choice.

  Her smile was sweet. “I dont do fish.

  “Bourbon Street it is, he said, and kissed her again before swaggering back down into the yard. “Get a move on, you lazy little shits, before I boot your behinds up around your ears! Weve got form to do before lunch!

  Nenevok Creek, September 3

  They were on a short final into Nenevok Creek to scratch Liams itch when the throttle cable on the Cessna broke.

  Theyd had to go around at the last moment, about ten feet off the deck and fifty feet off the end of the airstrip, when a bull moose wandered out of the trees. He looked up at them, startled, and then lunged across the strip and into the brush on the opposite side, at the same time Wy grabbed for the throttle and shoved it all the way in.

  Liam, sitting in the right seat and cursing steadily and colorfully, didnt notice anything else wrong at first. It helped that he had his eyes screwed shut. He opened them when he heard her voice over the headset.

  “Oh, shit.

  Of all the words in the world that someone who is deathly afraid of flying can hear in the air, “Oh, shit are the two you least want to hear, and the two most productive of sheer terror. “What!

  “Shut up! she yelled back. “Im busy!

  Of all the words in the world that someone who is deathly afraid of flying can hear in the air, “Shut up, Im busy are the four you least want to hear, ranking right down there one notch above “Oh shit. He didnt shut up, although he did try to remain calm. He gulped, trying to get his heart out of his throat and back down in his chest where it belonged. “Wy, whats wrong?

  “The throttle cable broke when I put on power to go around, she said. She seemed very calm, lips pressed together in a prim line, face set. She was wearing sunglasses, so he couldnt see her eyes.

  It had finally happened, his worst fear: the plane had broken while they were in the air. “I love you, Wy, he said, and bravely prepared to meet his death.

  “Give it a rest, Campbell, she said, irritated. “All I have to do is fly the plane. Well be fine. She glanced at him and saw the fear writ large upon his countenance for all to see, but it was only her in the cockpit with him, and only she could get him down in one piece. He needed reassurance, but she didnt have time to give him any.

  Maybe she could talk him down.

  She began to speak, keeping her voice steady, her tone casual. “I felt the cable go when I went full ahead to get altitude for the go-around. Its stuck in the full-throttle position, all the juice, full-ahead go. We need low power to land, not full power.

  The planes engine seemed louder and fiercer at this moment than any Liam had heard before. The Cessna was at a hundred feet and in a shallow right turn, Nenevok Creek, the tops of the spruce and birch and a small but rugged outcropping
of rock passing in rapid succession beneath the right wheel. The single wheel of the landing gear visible to him was shuddering beneath the vibrations of the RPMs, and to Liams fascinated eye looked as if it were ready to launch out on its own.

  Over the headset Wys voice came, unruffled, no hint of panic, a throttle cable could have broken in flight every day of her flying career for all the emotion she put into the words. “Im going to pull the carb heat, that will slow us down some. Her hands moved to another control. “Now Im going to trim the nose down, to keep from climbing. That will slow us down some more.

  It did seem like they were slowing down. It took a long time to get on the other side of that rock outcropping, which seemed more threatening the longer Liam looked at it. “I love you, Wy, he repeated.

  “Now Im going to lean the mixture. That cuts the gas going into the engine, slows it down even more.

  What if the engine quit completely? It took everything in him not to ask the question out loud. He could no longer watch the ground rush up at them and lowered his gaze to the control panel. The first thing to meet his appalled eyes was the altimeter. Fifty feet. Thirty. The tail of the Cessna came up. Twenty.

  “Okay, Wy said serenely, “were looking good. Now Im going to pull the mixture all the way out. That means that the engine will be getting all air and no fuel, and that means that Wys hands went to a knob and pulled it all the way out.

  The engine died.

  There was no sound but the rush of air past the plane. The prop slowed and then came to a stop, the blades straight up and down in front of the windshield.

  They touched down easily, smoothly, connecting solidly on all three wheels all at the same time, as if theyd done it a thousand times before and, praise be, would live to do it a thousand times again.

  The plane rolled to a stop well before the end of the strip, plenty of room to spare.

  The two in it sat for a moment, silent, staring forward.

  Wy moved first, removing her headset and tossing it on top of the dash. She took a deep breath and turned to smile at Liam. “Thats what we call a deadstick landing. No power. All up to lift and gravity.

  His mouth was so dry he couldnt speak, could only nod to let her know he had heard.

  They got out of the plane, moving with exaggerated care, as if the return to terra firma was still a tentative thing.

  A loud squawking caw came from the top of a nearby spruce tree, and Liam squinted up to see the raven sitting in its very top. It squawked again and launched suddenly, sailing over their heads on shiny black wings. It swooped and dived, climbed and banked, did snap rolls and Immelmanns in an aerial exhibition of consummate grace and power that mocked the rigid form of their own craft.

  Liam watched with a kind of numb incomprehension, Wy with envy. “God, to fly like that, she said. “Its all we want when we take to the air, to master it, to make it our own. And we never even come close.

  She looked at Liam, still mute. She looked at the Cessna, planted placidly on its gear. “We were never in that much danger, Liam, she said gently. “Yeah, the throttle cable broke, but theres a way to handle it. Theres a way to handle pretty much everything in the air, as long as you dont get excited. Bob DeCreft used to say, no matter what happens, dont panic, just fly the airplane. She took another deep, careful breath. “He was a good teacher, old Bob.

  Finally Liam found his voice. “Yeah. He sure was. Wy?

  “What?

  “I love you.

  It was her turn to look shaken.

  “I love you, Wy, he said again.

  “Liam, she said with obvious difficulty, “we have to talk.

  THIRTEEN

  Newenham, September 3

  Diana Prince had never wanted to be anything but what she was: an Alaska state trooper. Her great-grandfather had been with the New York City police, her grandfather had worked for J. Edgar Hoover at the FBI, and both parents were thirty-year detectives with the Anchorage Police Department who shared three citations for valor. Her brother and only sibling had disgraced the family twice over, first by becoming an attorney and second by going to work for the ACLU, so upon Dianas shoulders rested the honor of the present generation of Princes, and her parents and grandparents had made sure she knew it.

  Her father, a gruff man with eyes that could bore holes right through you, had sat her down at the kitchen table her senior year in high school and had interrogated her as to her reasons for becoming a trooper. “Its in the blood, shed said, but he hadnt let her get away with that. It might have been partly family tradition, but it was also the reading of The Klondike Rush, which in part recounted the activities of Samuel Benton Steele, the Canadian Mountie whose forces had kept the peace during the Klondike Gold Rush.

  Her father looked at her mother and said, “So. Its the hat, referring to the round-crowned, flat-brimmed hat that made all state troopers look like Dudley Do-Right.

  Well, maybe it was, again only partly, but it was mostly because Diana had a strong sense of right and wrong, an even stronger sense of duty, and a liking for authority. She stumbled her way to an explanation of these feelings which omitted her main reason, which was that she had no wish to stand in her parents shadows, cast long in the Anchorage P.D., and which must have satisfied her parents because her father then pointed out all the disadvantages that came with the jobthe horrible hours, the daily stress of dealing with the lowest level of the gene pool, the alienation from the general population, the ever-present risk of injury, even deathand he had asked, no, he had demanded that she think it over before she made her final decision. This included, he decreed, four years at college, for which he and her mother would pay so long as she pulled down grades of B or better and elected a discipline that would be useful for promotion. “Its better to be boss, he said. “A degree will get you there.

  She came home from the University of Washington with a B.A. in criminal justice, and filled out her application for the trooper academy the next day.

  The academy was notoriously picky in its selection of recruits, thanks to the states munificent endowment of troopers salaries, but they took one look at Dianas sex, citizenship and degree and snapped her up. She graduated at the top of her class, and at the graduation ceremony recited the short, simple oath of the Alaska State Troopers with the absolute conviction that she was going to be the best trooper who ever was, with the highest conviction rate and the lowest percentage of citizen complaints in the history of the service. She would serve, she would protect, and before long, she knew in her secret heart, she would be running the joint.

  Her first assignment after her probationary period had been Newenham, where shed arrived a little over two months before. Newenham, in spite of it being a seven-step pay increase because of its Bush location, was not first pick on anyones list. The sergeant in charge before Corporal Campbell had been that unusual individual, a careless trooper: careless of the law, careless of the safety and security of his community and, most unforgivably, careless of the reputation of the service. He had been loathed from Togiak to Igiugik, he had been despised by fellow and superior officers alike, and if he hadnt been a former governors brother-in-law, he would never have lasted as long as he did. As it was, hed only been transferred, taking his problems with him to Eagle River, where at least he would be answerable to an on-the-scene authority other than himself, and where everyone prayed he wouldnt screw up for the next year, after which he became eligible for retirement.

  Into this mess stepped Liam Campbell, recently broken in rank and transferred in disgrace because of an error in judgment that had left five people dead in Denali Park. The way Prince heard it, it hadnt been Campbells fault, but hed been the sergeant in charge of the post and the buck stopped on his desk. Up to then, his record had been exemplary. Hed been John Dillinger Bartons golden boy, and the smart money had him moving up the chain of command high and fast.

  Instead, he got Newenham, a fishing community of two thousand at the end of an hours ride by 737, on the edg
e of Bristol Bay, which had once seen the largest runs of salmon in the world, where fortunes had been made in the set of one net. Now, the salmon were returning in ever-dwindling numbers, incomes were falling, and alcohol consumption was on the rise. There were foreign vessels docking now and then for supplies, there was tension between the white and Native communities, there was tension between all Alaskans and the state and federal governments. It was a community ripe with possibilities. Diana had taken a long, hard look at Liams record, made a few discreet inquiries and had liked what she had learned. She sensed an opportunity to pile up numbers in the “Cases Closed column and expressed a preference for a duty assignment in Newenham, knowing full well she would get it by default.

  When she and Liam were done with it, Newenham would be first on everybodys list.

  All of which explained why she was on the phone to the Crime Lab in Anchorage that day three times before noon. Tired of talking to her, the receptionist finally gave her the direct line to the ballistics lab. An anonymous tech was brusque and uncommunicative. She called again in an hour and he hung up on her.

  She called the medical examiner, one Dr. Hans Brilleaux, known less than affectionately to the law enforcement community as Brillo, for his Brillo-pad hair, a black, wiry nest that looked like it could provide houseroom for a flock of swallows. It smelled like it, too.

  Brillo was less than enthusiastic. “Ive got four stiffs ahead of yours, he said in answer to her query, and then he hung up on her, which seemed to be the days universal response.

  She drummed her fingers impatiently on the desk. Until the autopsy came in, she would have nothing comparing the pattern of buckshot to the patterns Teddy and Johns shotguns had presumably produced for the Crime Lab, so she went down to Bills for a fat pill. Dottie and Paul Takak were dispensing comfort in the form of bacon cheeseburgers and fountain Cokes. Dottie, a Yupik elder and a pillar of the local Native community, sat in back of the bar, arms folded, and refused to serve any Yupik customers alcohol. In the kitchen, Paul put ketchup on every burger, whether you wanted it or not. Sighing inwardly, Diana opened up her burger to scrape the layer of red sauce away. Life in Newenham went to hell with Bill and Moses both gone.